Three
by bs13
Summary: AU. Take a deep breath. Count to three. Deal with the pain of being shot. Deal with the annoying prat who won't answer your questions. Count to three again. What exactly did you do three days ago? Peddie, slight Jabian, Jara, and Amfie. (Entry to TooBusyBeingAnAwkoTaco's contest)
1. One

So...new story time-? Uggggh please kill me because I know I haven't written for this fandom in forever and all my stories never update and just...ew. So here's some crappy writing (and an entry for TooBusyBeingAnAwkoTaco's contest) for all of you to (probably not) enjoy. Note the bold headlines, btw, for future reference.

Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.

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**Tuesday, June 28th, 10:00 A.M.**

_Pain_.

Patricia Williamson is in pain. She's in pain, but she's alive.

Alive, but shot.

She was shot, wasn't she? Or did she imagine it?

"Patricia." The voice comes from her right ear, and it's soft. Too soft.

Patricia coughs. _One, two, three_. "Joy," she deadpans.

Joy frowns, contrasting her tired, teary brown eyes.

Patricia smirks.

Tan arms then shoot forward and encircle the paler girl's torso, and Joy Mercer has never cried as much as she does now when hugging her best friend. Patricia doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything, just lets Joy's tears soak her bloodstained shirt without complaint as she gingerly hugs back as firmly as being shot in the abdomen lets somebody.

"You could've died," reprimands Joy harshly, but her voice quivers like it should as a best friend and doesn't come off as harsh as a boss's voice usually should.

Patricia focuses on the walls of the hospital, pretending to ignore Joy's words. The walls are too white and too clean, she decides; Patricia has always liked dark colors, like black, because they hide things better. Blood stains, for one. White hospital walls wouldn't be able to hide blood stains.

"Patricia. You could've _died_."

Patricia snorts. Waits two seconds instead of three. "I know."

Joy lets go of Patricia, wiping haphazardly at her tears, and she soberly says, "Just so you know, I'm going to hate you forever for this. You really..." Joy stops, and doesn't elaborate, but Patricia fills in the blanks herself.

_Fucked things up._

"Yeah," is all Patricia says. "I know."

Joy exhales shakily. Then once more. And then, "Do you want to see him?"

Patricia doesn't ask who she's talking about. "No."

Joy bites her lip, slowly falling backwards into the grim hospital cushioned seat that is beside Patricia's hospital bed. Quietly, Joy mumbles something Patricia doesn't catch.

"What?" Patricia demands.

Joy waits. _One, two, three_. "Nothing."

Patricia focuses on the bedsheets. White again. Why is everything white in hospitals? Maybe it's blood. Everything goes back to blood; hospitals deal with blood a lot more than Patricia does, yet they don't use dark colors. Why don't they use dark colors? So blood is easier to see? Hospitals doesn't need to see blood. Patricia does.

Patricia sighs, then winces and says, "So, then, tell me if we got through."

"No." This time, Joy's voice is harsh.

"I just need to know," says Patricia, surprised. Shocked.

Joy frowns. Harder this time. "Really?" she asks, incredulous. "That's what you decide?"

"Joy."

"No, you shouldn't get to know. Not when you-" Pause. Joy doesn't like pauses. _One, two, three_. "You're lucky you're even alive. Don't push your luck here."

Patricia laughs dryly. "Don't talk about being alive to me."

Joy opens her mouth, then closes it.

Patricia shifts forward, wincing at the pain. "Joy," she repeats. "Tell me."

"Don't...move like that. You'll hurt yourself."

"_Joy_."

Joy stands up, and she hovers over Patricia, watching her with those tired brown eyes Patricia has always known to be full of life, always sparkling with excitement. And its with an even more tired voice that Joy asks, "Do you not remember?"

Patricia falls back on the hospital bed. "I don't remember."

Joy's quiet. So quiet she doesn't even count to three and continue.

"Joy. Tell me," Patricia prompts, fearing her friend has forgotten her request.

Joy moves towards the hospital door. Patricia watches, her jade green eyes flickering to her hesitant best friend and to the light brown wooden door that also isn't dark enough for a hospital.

"You saw everything," Joy says thickly, her eyes misting. "_Everything_."

"I don't remember." Patricia keeps her eyes on Joy, her voice urgent.

"You have to. You have to remember. Otherwise-" _One, two, three_, and then Joy adds, "Otherwise, I'm not going to say anything. Remember, because I'm not going to tell you."

Patricia feels the anger rise. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"It's not my place." Joy's eyes look towards something outside, in the hospital hallway.

Patricia frowns.

"Just...remember," Joy finishes, and her voice is now more tired than ever, like an exasperated kindergarten teacher speaking to a disruptive student instead of a best friend. "Please." And Joy leaves without so much of a goodbye, out the light-colored wooden door.

Patricia's frown falls. _Please_. Joy had said please.

Patricia wants to remember. She really does. But how can she? All she knows is blood. All she'll ever know is blood. Why does Joy expect so much? Joy must know that Patricia is suffering. Joy has to know that Patricia can't be bothered.

All Patricia needs is a yes or no. Is that too much?

There's a knock, then. A hollow, hesitant sound that Patricia recognizes.

"Come in," she says, but her voice betrays her; it cracks on the last word.

He's there. Just the person she _didn't_ want to see.

"Hey, Yacker," he says softly. Too softly. Why is everyone being soft to her?

"Slimeball," she grits, and she frowns at him, because he looks different. The memory she gets of him is a clean-shaven young man with a distracting tattoo of her name on his neck, but he looks haggard, and his tattoo has been removed; in its place, there is a patch of burned skin. Besides that, he has a bloodied bandage on his forehead, and his lip is split. _It's like he's been to hell and back_, Patricia marvels.

"You're, uh, finally awake," is what he manages out, and he smiles, but it's fake. Forced. He doesn't sit, but he does hover, and his body tenses every second as though he's about to say something, but he never does.

Patricia doesn't have time for small talk. "Cut the crap, Miller."

He ducks his head down shyly.

_Shyly_.

He is never shy.

"Are you in any pain?" he then decides to ask.

Patricia frowns. Grits her teeth. "You're doing a poor job of distracting me."

He doesn't even look offended. Instead, he keeps looking at her like she's a wounded animal, like she's the one who looks like hell. This puzzles Patricia, because he's always been the type to back up with a smart-alecky comment and get on her nerves, not have sympathy for her.

"Eddie," she starts, and his name is foreign on her tongue, "tell me if we got through."

His forehead crinkles. "You don't remember," he states, not even asking as Joy did.

"No."

He stares at her, not bothering to hide his disbelief.

Patricia doesn't like the feeling. "Quit staring," she demands. "Just tell me."

He doesn't tell her. Instead he sits down, finally, dropping like a deadweight.

"_Slimeball_," she snaps, angry. "Tell me. Yes or no, did we get through?"

His stares again, this time his gaze harsher. "Tell me what you remember."

Patricia doesn't like his tone. Doesn't like him.

Eddie gets angry. Stands, then sits. Opens his mouth to yell but never does. Finally, it's with a quiet, defeated voice that he pleads, "Patricia, tell me what you remember."

Patricia waits. _One, two, three_. "No," she answers, and her voice is angry, her face is angry, she's angry. She doesn't like this; she has just been shot for God's sake. Why does she need an interrogation?

"Please," he says.

Please again. Patricia has never been really polite.

"I don't need a bloody interrogation," Patricia snaps. "Just tell me." Her voice is demanding. She's always been demanding; she doesn't ask for things nicely, nor does she intend to start.

Eddie rubs at his eyes. Keeps his hand there for a while. _One, two, three_. "I will," he says, his voice soft. "But you have to help me out here. What do you remember?"

Patricia frowns, because she doesn't do helping either.

"C'mon, Yacker," he begs, and he isn't teasing her with the nickname. No, he says it softly, sweetly, like it's a term for endurance. "Think hard. What's the first thing you remember from June 25th?"

June 25th. The date strikes a chord.

The chord triggers something, and she finds herself in a haze of memories that rush to her. They aren't pleasant, either; they're messy and everywhere, reminding her just how bad that day was.

There's her name, boldly tattooed on Eddie's neck.

There is Eddie's gun, and it's pointed at her.

Patricia is yelling.

Eddie is yelling.

Joy is trying to break into the room.

Fabian's there. He's falling.

Mara's there. She's bleeding.

Jerome's there. He's screaming.

The gun's still there, never moving, still in Eddie's hands.

Nothing prepares her when the first horrid memories come flooding back. Patricia finds herself breathless easily, as if she's still living it, as if she's still there, as if it's still June 25th.

"What day is it?" Patricia asks, and her voice is tinged with panic.

Eddie falters, but slightly. "Um, the 28th. Still June," he adds lamely.

Patricia takes that in. Three days. Just three days.

"Patricia," he says, and his voice is careful, cautious. "Are you-"

"Hold on." She cuts him off. Doesn't let him finish. When has she ever let him finish anything when she doesn't want him to? She stares at him, trying to understand why he looks like hell, why her name's been burned off his neck when it's only been three days.

"Patricia," he repeats, and his voice is urgent. "Tell me what you remember."

Patricia focuses on the white walls of the hospital. Doesn't meet Eddie's eyes. She closes her own eyes, willing herself to think to the very beginning, willing herself to find something other than the horrific memories her brain taunts her with.

Mara's blood. A lot of blood. Patricia can do blood, but not yet.

Joy's smile. Patricia loves her smile, but not yet.

Fabian's burnt fingers. He's careless. So careless. Not yet.

Jerome's smirk. He teases too much. Not yet.

Amber's blunt remark. She's too blond. Not yet.

Nina's kind words. She's too...Nina. Not yet.

And Eddie. He's...he's something. Patricia can't understand him quite yet; why he's so soft-spoken right now, why he even got her name tattooed on his neck, why he keeps showing up in the blasted memory of June 25th when he's just an annoying prat she barely knows.

"Patricia." His voice is still urgent.

Patricia exhales. She decides to let the words flow off her tongue whichever way they come to her. _One, two, three_, she counts, and it's with a tense, quick tone that she blurts out, "You. I...remember you."

Eddie doesn't speak. Doesn't move. Keeps his eyes on her, even when her own eyes are still on the white hospital walls, never wavering. He brings a hand to his neck, gingerly probes the burned skin, never stops studying her, never stops analyzing her.

"Tell me," he says, and it's so quiet, Patricia almost doesn't hear him.

_Almost_.

Patricia scowls, because she doesn't want to tell him anything. She doesn't get why he needs to know, why he needs to understand what she thinks of him, why he's a part of June 25th at all.

"Yacker," he repeats, his voice coming off too gentle once more.

Patricia scowls harder. "Don't call me that."

"Then tell me." Eddie breathes in, breathes out, keeps watching.

Patricia looks at him, finally.

"Blood," she says suddenly. "I just...blood. Before you, I remember there was blood."

Eddie takes that in. Nods, even.

Patricia hesitates, just once. _One, two, three_. "And it wasn't mine."

He keeps nodding. Sort of rhythmically, too.

"It wasn't yours. But I wanted it to be."

He furrows his brow. Stops nodding.

"I hate you," she says, coolly. "That's why I wanted the blood to be yours, because I hated you then. I still do." She scans his eyes. Waits for a reaction, waits for the I-hate-you-too and the matching smirk. Waits for the old Eddie to come back, not this soft-spoken, caring Eddie.

Eddie nods once. _One, two, three_, his eyes chant.

"Keep going," he says once the seconds pass.

Patricia pauses. Falters.

Then she begins, "I was told to count to three when I first met Joy."

He nods again.

"And when I met you, I started doing that a lot more," she says.

Nods again. Green eyes never stray.

"And on June 25th, it didn't work," she says.

One more nod.

"June 25th was three days ago?" she asks, feeling vulnerable; she hasn't forgotten, but there's something about the conversation that makes her want to stray from it. This questions is a breath of fresh air, almost.

"Yeah." He keeps his answer curt.

She focuses on him. "Then three days ago, I killed a man."


	2. Two

Fast update! I hate my iPad because I wrote most of this chapter yesterday and then I deleted it on accident, but then I rewrote the whole thing. My hands hurt and I'm dying, but there's an update!

Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.

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**Saturday, June 25th, 7:00 A.M.**

Screams.

That's the first thing Patricia Williamson hears when she wakes up.

The screams are loud. Too loud. Dominantly male, but there is a female scream mixed in as well. Patricia sighs; her apartment neighbor, Alfie, must be getting robbed. His girlfriend must be there too. Don't they know how thin the apartment walls are?

She gets up. Rubs her eyes. Checks her phone.

7:00 A.M.

Her eyes widen in panic. She goes in at eight today. Her alarm was supposed to wake her up an hour ago. Why isn't it set? She angrily grabs the alarm clock. Shakes it. Finds the batteries have been removed, when she never even touched the battery compartment.

_Shit_.

She hurries to get dressed. It's a good thing she showered yesterday, of she would be later than she already is. She grabs a brush, runs it through her hair, and then starts her coffee maker.

The screams still sound. Huh, maybe Patricia should've called 911.

Maybe she still could.

Maybe she should.

Her coffee is done. She takes the mug. Sips at the hot liquid. Grimaces at the bitter taste. She doesn't like plain black coffee, but she drinks it on mornings like these to remind herself what bitter is, because she's always tempted to go into a foul mood, and she can't do that today.

Three minutes. Three minutes to finish her coffee, and then she'll call 911.

Besides, Alfie is a wimp. Maybe a robbery is what he needs. Something to scare him. Maybe his girlfriend needs it, too. Her name is Amber or something. She works with Patricia, and she's a wimp too. They both need a scare of some sort...

**BANG**.

Slim fingers that once encircled her coffee mug's handle let go.

The white porcelain cup falls victim to the hard black tile floor. The hot, brown liquid spills out first, and then the cup hits, exploding shards of white all over her small kitchen floor.

She runs.

Digs through her closet. Finds the black shoebox she keeps there. Grabs the loaded handgun she never thought she'd have to use, but now she has to go help. She doesn't like helping. Doesn't do it. But it's too late for 911 to come. Too late for her wimpy neighbors to be spared.

A robbery is one thing.

Murder is another.

She exits her apartment carefully. Positions the gun just right. Waits outside of Alfie's apartment door. _One, two, three_. Then she moves quickly and kicks down the door in one swift motion, holding the gun out, and time seems to stop.

Alfie looks at her. Tears drip down his face, one by one.

Alfie's girlfriend looks at her. But it's not Alfie's girlfriend. Amber Millington is blond with blue eyes and a ditzy exterior. This girl has auburn hair and jade eyes, and her name is not Amber. Her name is Piper Williamson, and she is Patricia's twin sister.

The gunman looks at Patricia. Surges forward. Pushes a gun to Piper's temple.

"Get out, or she dies," the gunman says through gritted teeth.

Patricia takes a step back.

Alfie's tears drip off more violently.

Patricia takes one more step back. Keeps the gun raised.

The room is messy. Clothes are strewn about. Something is boiling on the stove and is boiling over the lid. Alfie's bed has a bullet hole in it. A bullet hole the gunman must have put in it to scare Alfie and Piper.

One more step.

There. That's three steps. That's all Patricia needs.

"Put the gun down," comes the next order.

But the gunman doesn't understand. Hasn't made the connection. Doesn't realize how alike Piper and Patricia look. Doesn't realize what family is willing to do for each other. Doesn't realize he's not going to kill Piper. Doesn't realize he isn't going to win.

Patricia counts to three.

_One_.

"I said, put the gun down!"

_Two_.

The gunman angrily moves his arm as if to shoot Patricia instead.

_Three_.

A single pale finger pulls the trigger.

**BANG**.

The gunman staggers backwards. He isn't dead yet. His blood seeps through his shirt, spreading quickly over his chest. His gun clatters onto the floor and he falls next to it. He's gasping for breath. Blubbering for his life.

But he's dead. Not yet, but he will be. Patricia knows blood. Always will know blood. That much blood in such a short time is equivalent to his death, no matter how fast they can get him carted off to a hospital.

Piper rushes to Alfie's side then. Clutches his arms. Sobs to him. Sobs something Patricia can't understand, but Alfie does, and he grabs her into a tight hug, sobbing just as hard as she does.

Patricia watches. Wonders.

Why is Piper here with Alfie? She should be in another country.

Why isn't Amber with Alfie? She's his girlfriend.

How is Alfie good enough to get two girls? He's stupid.

Alfie looks over at Patricia. He sees the resemblance between her and Piper, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he chokes out a mangled thank-you and keeps holding onto Piper.

Piper never meets Patricia's eye.

This hurts Patricia, because she hates Piper. Always has. Piper's always been the prettier twin. She's always been the better twin. That's why Patricia hates her. But there's something about the people Patricia hates that always mess up her life, because Patricia loves Piper. She really, honestly does.

And Piper had to go and get herself almost killed.

And Patricia had to save her.

And Piper won't even say anything. Won't explain herself.

So it's with a cold voice that Patricia orders, "Call 911."

Alfie nods.

Piper sobs.

Patricia leaves. Counts.

_One, two, three._

**Tuesday, June 28th, 10:30 A.M.**

Patricia opens her eyes. She never realized they were closed.

Eddie is still there. Still watching. Still waiting.

Patricia itches to move. To leave. The way he stares at her is creepy. She doesn't like it. She doesn't like him. She shouldn't have to tell him these things. She shouldn't be telling him anything.

But...

"What happened?" Patricia blurts.

Eddie leans forward slightly. "What?"

"With Piper. What happened with Piper? Where is she now? Is she okay?"

Eddie just smiles sadly. "You know the answer to that, Patricia."

Her name sounds weird coming from his lips. It always has. But the sound of her name leaving his lips instead of Yacker isn't what pisses her off. It's his answer that does.

"No I don't," Patricia snaps.

Eddie just nods. "You do. Keep going."

Patricia frowns. Why is it he won't answer her questions? Why is it that he's here? Why does she have to tell him anything when he won't give her a simple answer to anything? Why does she have to remember? Why do he and Joy both insist she remember?

Joy...where's Joy? Patricia would rather talk to Joy.

"Where's Joy?" she demands.

Eddie isn't fazed by her question. "Outside," he says. "In the hall."

"I want to talk to her." Patricia eyes him carefully. Watches the expression his face gives. It's almost as though he's hurt by her words, but all he does is touch the part of his neck where his tattoo used to be and doesn't say anything.

_One, two, three_, and then he speaks. "You can't."

"Why not?" Patricia keeps demanding. She's always demanding.

Eddie considers the question. Almost doesn't want to answer it. But he does. "Because we both just want you to remember, and I need to hear you talk about it," he explains.

"Why can't she hear me talk about it?"

Eddie sighs. Blinks tired green eyes. "Because you'll hurt her," he answers simply.

Patricia won't just take that as an answer. "Hurt her how?"

"Patricia, you witnessed things Joy and I didn't," Eddie says. "There might be a memory from that day that causes Joy pain, or makes her upset. That's how you'll hurt her."

Patricia frowns. "What if I hurt you too?"

"You will," Eddie says, and he bites his lip to refrain from saying anything else.

"Then why are you going to listen to me even if it'll hurt you?"

Eddie laughs dryly. Shakes his head. "You know the answer to that one too."

Patricia frowns. She still doesn't like his answers. Still doesn't like him.

"Does she not know I killed a man?" Patricia questions further.

"She knows." Eddie shrugs it off. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Did you know?"

Eddie smirks. "You know the answer to that."

Patricia scowls. "I'm not going to keep going unless you answer me," she says.

Eddie leans back in his chair. "Yacker," he begins.

Patricia cuts him off again. "No," she says. "I'm serious. It was just three bloody days I forgot, not three years. Not my life. I don't need to remember something as small as three days. I especially don't need to be telling you what happened those three days."

"You're missing the point here," Eddie says lazily, and he stays leaned back. "You're not remembering for just you. Remember? You witnessed things Joy and I didn't. You saw everything. We didn't."

Patricia remembers the way Joy said everything earlier.

The way Joy's eyes misted.

Patricia realizes, then, that something bad has happened, and it relates to Joy. Something has hurt Joy, and Patricia is the only one who knows what it is, and what happened specifically.

So Patricia closes her eyes again.

**Saturday, June 25th, 7:55 A.M.**

"You're later than usual, aren't you, Yacker?"

Patricia bites her tongue. Of course Eddie Miller is going to be coming in late the same day she does. And there he is, clocking in right beside her, flashing her that teasing grin and calling her that stupid nickname he always gives her.

"I am," she replies curtly. "So are you, I see."

"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "But I'm on time, since all I have to do is clock in. You have to meet Joy, don't you? She's a very punctual woman, and our boss, so, you have it worse."

Patricia scowls. "Joy doesn't care."

"Right, I forgot, you two are best friends," Eddie says. "Must be nice, knowing the boss can never fire you or get mad at you. And you probably get promotions way faster than the rest of us, too, right?"

Patricia frowns. "What do you care about promotions?"

Eddie Miller doesn't have to care. He and another American, Nina Martin, are on exchange for two of their workers for just a year, and they've only been here a month. They can't get fired. Can't get promoted. What does he care?

"I don't, but your coworkers do," Eddie replies. "Want to share an elevator?"

No, Patricia doesn't want to share an elevator. But she's later than usual, and Eddie's right, Joy is very punctual. And since Eddie works on the same floor Patricia has to go to, they might as well.

"Fine," Patricia snaps.

Eddie grins.

They get in the elevator. Patricia pushes the button for the third floor. Eddie leans against the side of the elevator as they wait for the doors to close, and someone else goes in, pressing the second floor button, much to Patricia's chagrin.

"So, do anything new this morning?" Eddie asks casually.

Patricia turns her head at him. Fast. "What do you care?" she asks. Her voice is tense. Defensive. Even though she tells herself that she killed a man in self-defense, she's horrified of what she has done. Jumpy, too, and Eddie is not helping.

The door opens and the person leaves for the second floor.

"Hey, don't shoot me too," Eddie jokes, holding up his hands in surrender.

Patricia's mouth falls open.

Eddie blanches. His hands fall to his sides. He realizes his mistake.

Suddenly Patricia is grabbing him by his shirt collar, thrusting her body weight forward and shoving him against the elevator doors, yanking his shirt with clenched fingers as she glares at him, both angry and confused at the same time.

"What do you know?" she hisses.

Eddie tries to move out of her grip. "N-nothing! I-"

"What. Do. You. Know," Patricia repeats, and she shoves him. Hard.

"I-"

The elevator doors open.

Eddie falls backwards.

Patricia falls forward.

They collide on the floor, a tangle of limbs and angry protests.

"Get _off_ of me, Slimeball!" Patricia snaps.

"First of all, _you_ are on top of _me_! And second of all-"

"Shut _up_! Just get out of my way-!"

Patricia elbows him across the face as she gets up, and Eddie hits his head against her stomach as he gets up too. When they're both standing and fixing their clothing and hair (Patricia more than him), Patricia takes that moment to glare at him.

_How does he know she killed a man?_

Eddie tugs at his shirt, not noticing her glare, and that's when Patricia sees the tattoo on his neck. It's her name. Not her full name, just her first name, but it makes her wonder why he has it.

"Way to almost kill me," Eddie says as he brushes off his pants.

But Patricia doesn't hear him. Doesn't care to.

"What is _that_?" she demands instead. Points at his neck.

He places a hand on his neck, and he blushes. "It's a name," he mumbles.

"It's my name," Patricia counters. "Why do you have it?"

Eddie laughs, then. "You're assuming it's for you. Well, don't flatter yourself, Yacker. I'll have you know it's for another girl," he informs her. "So don't worry about it." Still, he raises his collar and arranges his shirt to hide it.

Patricia frowns. "I was not assuming anything."

"Uh-huh." Eddie smirks smugly.

Patricia gets angrier. "Don't get cocky, you arse. Don't forget that you are not off the hook. Tell me what you bloody know, or I might as well shoot you," she demands.

Eddie falters slightly. _One, two, three_. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insists, playing the innocent. "You must've misheard me, because I never said-"

"You know very well what you said!" Patricia snaps.

"A-_hem_."

Patricia and Eddie both turn to see Joy Mercer standing there.

A hand on her hip and a smirk on her lips, Joy is the very image of amusement as her brown eyes flicker from Eddie to Patricia, and Patricia finds her face going red when she realizes Joy has been waiting for her.

"If you two are done bickering," Joy says calmly, "I've been waiting."

"Uh, sorry, boss," Eddie manages out. "I'll- get to work."

"Yes, you very well should, Mr. Miller," Joy says curtly.

Eddie hurries off, placing a hand on his neck.

Patricia sighs once they're alone. "Joy, I'm sorry for being late," she apologizes. "Something really strange happened today, and I'll explain it, but first we'd better have that meeting-"

"Excuses," Joy says simply. "I thought you didn't like excuses."

"I...don't."

Joy breaks into a smile. "Totally kidding! You should've seen your face," she teases. "But now that you're here, we'd better get Fabian and get the meeting in order."

"Wait, Fabian?" Patricia says slowly.

"Yes." Joy briskly starts walking, and Patricia follows.

They find Fabian in the break room, chatting with the other American on exchange, Nina Martin. As they walk in, Patricia notices that Joy's eyes soften at the sight, and her face falls a little.

"Fab- Mr. Rutter," Joy says, correcting herself.

Nina and Fabian look their way.

"Oh, Jo- I mean, Ms. Mercer," Fabian says, also correcting himself. "Hello."

"Good morning, Ms. Mercer," Nina interjects kindly.

"Yes, good morning," Joy says stiffly, not looking in Nina's direction and instead looking at Fabian. "Mr. Rutter, I did page you to come to my office at eight, didn't it?"

"Y-yes, of course. Nina was just lost, and- ah, I mean, Ms. Martin-"

"It's past eight," Patricia jumps in. 'We'd better get going."

"R-right," Fabian stammers. "It's just- Ms. Martin needed help for-"

Nina looks at Fabian and tells him, "It's okay, Fabian."

"Are you sure?" Fabian says, looking at her unsurely.

"_Yes_. Now go!" Nina says, smiling, and Fabian smiles back gratefully.

"I'll make it up to you," he promises as he stands up, quickly heading towards the door, but keeping his eyes on Nina. Nina just smiles and waves slightly.

Joy and Patricia exit after him.

"What was that all about?" Patricia asks Joy in a low voice so Fabian won't hear.

"Nothing," Joy replies, and she raises her voice so Fabian will hear. "Fabes-" She stops. His childhood nickname always falls from her lips when she's the most vulnerable. "I mean, Fabian. Just enter my office."

Fabian doesn't. He holds the door for the two women instead.

"Morning, Ms. Mercer!" comes the chirping voice of Amber Millington as they enter Joy's office. Because she is Joy's secretary, she is always there, every morning, and it drives Patricia insane.

"Hello, Amber," Joy greets her. "Any updates?"

"The union called, but only to say they'll be here an hour later."

"That's fine, then," Joy says. "Keep my schedule open for that time. Now Ms. Williamson, Mr. Rutter and I will be in my office for the next thirty minutes or so. Under no circumstances must you interrupt us."

"Alright," Amber echoes.

"And did you bring the coffee I requested?" Joy asks.

Amber pauses. "Ohhhh. See, I knew I forgot something."

Joy sighs. "That's fine. Just keep working."

She leads Patricia and Fabian into her small side office that she uses for meetings; it's soundproof, bulletproof, and has no security cameras inside as nothing inside is ever to be recorded or heard unless she wants it to be.

"Morning, Joyless," Jerome Clarke, the security guard always stationed in Joy's office, says. "I see you've brought the whole gang: Trixie and Stutter Rutter."

Joy rolls her eyes. "Hello, Jerome."

Jerome smirks in response. "Been busy, Mercer?"

"Too busy for you, yes," Joy replies.

"Always resisting me," Jerome declares, sighing jokingly.

"Yes, because you're _married_. Now, did you bring me my coffee?"

Jerome hands her a coffee cup. "I did, but I don't see why you don't get Millington to get it. Isn't that what secretaries are supposed to do for the people they work for?"

Joy sighs tiredly. "I tell her the same thing."

Joy then proceeds to stop the conversation there, and she leads Patricia and Fabian inside of her side office, closing the door behind them, handing off her cofee cup to Fabian.

"So what's this all about, Joy?" Patricia asks, cutting to the chase.

Joy goes to a desk she has shoved in the small side room, grabbing a few papers. "This is what it's all about," she answers seriously, and she holds out the papers to her friends.

Fabian takes the papers first, juggling Joy's coffee as he skims over the papers. Patricia watches as his eyes widen. Watches as he whips his head fast to look at joy. Watches as he drops the coffee and then scrambles to pick it up, burning his fingers in his haste.

"Ow," he mutters as he hurriedly hands off the hot coffee to Joy.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Joy frets, taking his hand and studying the way his fingers have been scorched by the hot liquid. "I'm so sorry, I should've taken that earlier."

"I'm fine, Joy, don't worry," Fabian replies, laughing shyly. "Um-"

Joy flushes, realizing how close she is to Fabian. "I'm...sorry," she says lamely.

Patricia rolls her eyes. "Hello, the papers?"

Fabian blushes. "Oh, yeah," he says, and he grabs the papers, his face slowly becoming grave. "Is this right, Joy? Someone is stealing money from the company?"

"Yes, it is," Joy says, her face just as grave.

"Well, have you run the numbers? Checked security footage?"

"Mara ran the numbers, since she's the company's treasurer," Joy affirms. "And as for security footage, no. The money was most likely stolen using the password for the company's bank account."

"Who knows the password?" Fabian asks readily.

"Only a few people. Mara's one of them," Joy says. "I haven't told anyone else in the company that money has been stolen except for you two and Mara. I don't want to get the police just yet, either, because I'm worried of the bad publicity we might get."

"So what can we do?" Patricia asks.

"I'm not sure yet," Joy confesses. "I might need some help with that."

"We'll help you," Fabian says automatically.

Patricia nods. "Yeah," she agrees.

Patricia pushes her problems aside then. Killing a man, seeing Piper, knowing Eddie was hiding something...all of that didn't matter now, knowing something as bad as what is happening to the company is happening right now.

Joy smiles at them fondly. "Thank you," she says softly.

They decide to brainstorm about it later, and the three of them exit the office. Jerome's still standing out there, and he greets them as they exit teasingly with a few lewd remarks, but everyone's used to him, and they ignore him, preparing to part their separate ways.

Then Jerome's walkie-talkie buzzes to life.

"Clarke, do you copy?" Mick Campbell, another security guard, calls.

Jerome unhitches his walkie-talkie. "I copy."

"We have an intruder. Third floor," Mick announces. "He's armed."

Patricia exchanges looks with the others there.

Another gunman.

"I'm here," Jerome declares. "Tell everyone to stay in their cubicles and get under their desks over the PA system, since you're on the ground floor. I'll find the gunman before anything happens."

A single scream suddenly sounds.

The scream is female. Familiar.

Jerome's face goes white. He recognizes the scream.

**BANG**.

Jerome starts to run. Doesn't pause. Doesn't breathe first.

Joy, Fabian, and Patricia follow him.

Jerome slows down in the hallway. He walks closer to the third cubicle on the floor. Raises a gun he has on his belt at all times close to his face, carefully reaching the cubicle, and he peers inside.

His stomach lurches.

His heart races.

The victim of a bullet, Mara Jaffray lies on the floor, dying.

* * *

**He he...don't kill me? *hides***

**Thanks to my reviewers!**

** sheerio4ever- You really gave me motivation to keep writing. Thank you!**

**Guest**

**FloraIrmaTylee**


	3. Three

It's chapter three for the story "Three" so you can bet it's special. BTW, has anyone been catching on to the many ways I've thrown in parallels to the name of this story? I find it amusing.

But off that...YOU GUYS MY DEADLINE FOR THIS STORY IS FRIDAY AND I AM FREAKING OUT BECAUSE I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO FINISH. Actually I might, but, there's a problem. I write on my iPad. I have a driving test tomorrow to get my driver's permit. If I don't pass, I lose my iPad. So as a heads-up, you all might not hear from me if I don't pass for a long time. But if I DO pass, then you can bet this story will be finished; I probably only have two chapters left.

So...enjoy?

Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.

* * *

**Saturday, June 25th, 8:43 A.M.**

Blood.

Patricia Williamson is seeing blood.

There's so much blood. Too much blood. Mara's blood.

**BANG**.

The gun in Jerome's hand shakes, having fired.

The man who shot Mara swears. Moves a hand to his arm. His fingers come back red, and he glares at Jerome. Raises his gun. Aims it, all while continuing to stare at Jerome angrily.

Tears streak down Jerome's face. Drip off his chin.

But when the gun is pointed at his face, the tears begin to fall less. He stares at it now. He stares down the barrel of the gun with a steady, unmoving gaze. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't dare blink. He has to keep reminding himself to breathe. He counts. _One, two, three._

"I'll shoot," the man warns.

Jerome drops his own gun. Laughs bitterly. "Go ahead," he prompts.

The man falters slightly.

**BANG**.

That's when Mick's gun takes him out.

The man bleeds right next to Mara. He's dead fast. Mara isn't; her body shakes and trembles as each new wave of pain takes her, and she cries soft, pained tears while trying not to full out sob.

Jerome drops to his knees beside his wife now. "Mara," he says softly. Gently.

Mara's eyes are closed. "J-Jerome," she mutters, keeping her eyes closed.

"Jaffray, we're going to get you to a hospital," Jerome says. His voice trembles. Cracks. "But you've got to stay awake for me, okay? Don't go to sleep. Try to open your eyes."

Mara sleepily smiles. Keeps her eyes closed. "M'kay," she mumbles.

Patricia has watched the whole thing.

She's dumbstruck by the way Mick kills. Dumbstruck by the idea that Mara might die. Dumbstruck that this is all happening on one day, and it's not even Friday the 13th or anything special.

"_Mara_. Mara, stay with me," Jerome pleads, and he takes his wife's hand. Stains his fingers with her blood. "You're going to be alright. Mara? Mara, I love you. Please, please open your eyes."

Mara tries. She can't.

"There's an ambulance on the way," Mick offers.

Jerome isn't listening. "Mara," he repeats. Keeps pleading.

Patricia looks at Fabian. Looks at Joy.

Fabian is holding Joy. Joy's crying into his shirt. Fabian keeps his arms around Joy, muttering soft words into her ear. They would appear to anyone who did not know them as a couple, the way they act.

Patricia's head reels.

This is too much. Too much death. Too much blood.

But all Patricia knows is blood.

That's all she has known since her parents were criminal investigators. Since she's been studying criminal justice in college. Since she killed a man just today and now is a killer. So it's true that she knows blood, but she doesn't look at Mara.

She doesn't want to look at Mara. Doesn't want her mind to condemn a friend.

Too much.

It's still too much.

Joy comes up beside Patricia. Grips her shoulder. "Patricia," she says quietly, "Fabian and I were talking, and we think that we should just go ahead and publicize that someone is stealing money from the company."

Patricia breathes. Keeps seeing Mara. "Why?" she manages out.

"I- well, I talked to Mick and- no. God, it's just...just-"

"Joy. Spit it out."

Joy inhales. "Mick thinks whoever shot Mara didn't _just_ shoot her."

"So you think it was planned," Patricia finishes.

Joy shrugs. "What else could it be?"

Sirens sound. The police have arrived. They rush to the third floor, take the dead man, rush Mara to the hospital with Jerome stuck by her side. A few linger to question the ones who witnessed what had happened. They talk to Mick. To Nina, who saw Mara get shot. To Joy. To Fabian.

They even try to talk to Patricia.

"Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what exactly you saw-"

Patricia doesn't want to. "I'd rather not," she tells them.

"Ma'am-"

"I don't want to, and you can't make me!" Patricia snaps angrily.

A low whistle sounds.

"Don't worry, boys, this is normal," comes the chuckling voice of Eddie Miller as he walks over to where Patricia is. "She's just cranky this early in the morning," he adds, winking at Patricia.

Patricia frowns. "You," she spits.

"Yeah, me," Eddie mocks, and he turns to the policeman who had been trying to talk to Patricia. "Sir, I'm really sorry about my girlfriend. She's just in a delicate state, considering her friend has just been taken to a hospital after being shot. Normally she'd talk, but, I'm afraid she's really upset right now. Maybe later?"

"_Girlfriend_?" Patricia hisses to him so only he can hear.

Eddie smirks at her.

The policeman leaves. Apologizes. Asks Patricia to talk later if she can.

Eddie turns to Patricia once he's gone. "You're welcome."

"Fuck off," Patricia snaps.

"Is that really a way to treat your boyfriend?" Eddie teases.

"Ugh, don't mention the thought," Patricia groans. "You really should not have said that, you know, because now the whole office is going to think we're dating."

"Right, the whole office who isn't even hearing this conversation."

Patricia glares. Turns. Leaves.

"And just so you know," Eddie calls after her, "the tattoo _is_ for you."

Patricia tenses. Doesn't reply. Doesn't dwell on it.

Tries not to think about it.

Tries not to think about anything.

**Tuesday, June 28th, 10:40 A.M.**

Patricia opens her eyes with a jolt.

"Mara's dead," she whispers softly. "Isn't she?"

Eddie sighs. "We...don't know," he admits, answering one of her questions for once.

"What do you mean you don't know? It's simple; either she's dead or she's not."

"It's complicated," Eddie counters, and he sighs again.

Patricia frowns. "Stop sighing," she orders.

"Stop telling me what to do." Eddie rubs his face tiredly. His voice breaks.

"Then start answering my questions."

"I can't do that for you. Only you can," he replies quietly.

"I can't answer my own questions," Patricia snaps.

"Yes, you can. But you've got to keep going. Tell me what you remember."

"Damn it, I don't want to!"

Eddie leans forward.

His hand touches Patricia's. His fingers are tentative. Gentle. He lifts her hand slightly. Curls his fingers underneath hers. Gently rubs the surface of her skin with his thumb.

Patricia is lost for words.

He's holding her hand. Holding her hand like he wants to. Like he needs to.

"I know you don't want to," he murmurs. "I know it might hurt you. I know for sure it's going to hurt me. It might hurt many other people too. I don't want to put you through that. I wouldn't if it were up to me. But like it or not, you're our last hope for many things we don't know."

Patricia stares at him.

"Don't touch me, Slimeball," she finally mutters quietly.

Eddie pulls his hand away. "Sorry," he replies, but he doesn't look sorry as his green eyes scan hers, trying to see something in her eyes that she doesn't think she has.

Patricia exhales. "I'll keep going," she says begrudgingly. "But on one condition."

"What?"

"You tell me what are the things you don't know that I might."

Eddie thinks about it. Considers it. "No," he says finally. "No, I can't do that."

"And why not?" Patricia is annoyed. Annoyed he'll touch her hand in an almost caring manner and then just shrug off her one condition to keep recalling a day he doesn't deserve to hear about.

"Because then you're going to try to think about only those specific things. And if you do that, you migh skip something important to you," Eddie explains. "Then you might miss something that might change your mind about a few...things."

Patricia frowns. Still doesn't like him. Still doesn't _trust_ him.

"Fine," she grumbles against her better judgement.

And she closes her eyes to remember.

**Saturday, June 25th, 9:00 A.M.**

"Ms. Martin, explain to us why you saw Mara get shot," Joy says sharply.

Patricia stands back and watches as Joy grills Nina suspiciously.

Nina isn't fazed by the interrogation, thought Fabian looks embarrassed for both Nina and Joy. "I work next to Mara," Nina says simply. "She had been telling me about something when the man came over to us and demanded Mara give him some sort of password."

"Did Mara seem to know the man?" Fabian jumps in.

"No," Nina replies. "He didn't know who she was either; he just came over, asked if she was the company's treasurer, and then began to badger her about a password, which Mara didn't give him. Eventually he got fed up and insisted she had to give him the password or he'd kill both of us."

"Why didn't you call for help?" Joy further questions.

"He said if we did, he'd shoot," Nina answers. "We were scared, okay? What would you do?" She wraps her arms around herself defensively, looking upset. "I wasn't able to guess he would shoot Mara anyway."

Fabian steps forward. "Nina-" he starts gently.

Nina shakes her head. Stops him. "I'm just going to get back to work," she says stiffly, and she moves to get to her cubicle, not meeting the eyes of anyone there.

Joy looks at Fabian.

Looks at Nina.

And she surges forward. "Nina," Joy says softly. "Don't think we're trying to blame you or anything. There's just something that is happening with the company and we need to know who the man was. If it means anything...I'm sorry."

Patricia looks at Joy, realizing Joy is pushing aside her feelings for Fabian in favor of his feelings for Nina. Patricia reaches over and brushes Joy's shoulder, letting her friend know that she's doing the right thing.

Nina seems to realize this as well, and she pauses. Thinks. "I accept your apology," she says quietly. "But I need to know what's going on with the company."

"Everyone will," Joy answers. "Right now, I want the company to be closed for today and everyone sent home. I'll have Amber send everyone an email that explains everything, and this will be resolved once I get the police involved."

"Police?" Nina echoes. Her eyes grow wide.

"Yes, police," Joy says tiredly. "Mick," she says, and she turns to the blond security guard, "get the other guards and tell them to get everyone out of here and to their homes. Then ask one of the police officers if I might be able to talk more about what happened today."

"Sure thing, boss," Mick replies.

Joy looks at Fabian and Patricia. "You two get home," she says. "I'll get the email sent and tell the police everything. This'll work out, hopefully..."

"Joy, I want to help you," Fabian insists.

Joy just shakes her head. Won't let him. "No. You've got to get home."

"Then let me stay with you while you do everything," Fabian offers.

Joy hesitates. Considers it. "But...," she says tentatively.

"Oh, just let him," Patricia mutters. She's annoyed. Tired. Annoyed that Joy hasn't admitted her feelings to Fabian already. Tired of the sexual tension between the two.

So the two of them go. They both say goodbye to her.

Patricia leaves after they go. Heads home.

She's still in shock.

Eddie knows she killed a man. Mara got hurt. Mara might die...

She reaches her apartment. Enters the place. Sighs. It's early and the day sucks. Why does it have to be today when her life gets fucked up? Can't it wait until _after_ the weekend at least?

Patricia takes off her shoes. Goes to take a shower.

She needs something to get her mind off today. Needs something to get everything out of her head. Needs something that will relax her. Needs something that won't result in a gun or blood.

She starts the water.

Reaches out to the rushing stream. Fixes the temperature. Touches the numbingly cold water and decides it's perfect. Perfect to forget. Perfect for a person who doesn't want to ever _not_ forget.

She pulls her hand back.

Droplets of water drip down her wrist. They remind her of blood. Cold and wet. Wet and cold. Her head reels. Why is it that everything reminds her of blood? Cold and wet. Wet and cold.

Patricia shuts her eyes.

_One, two, three._

Her cell phone goes off.

Patricia doesn't turn off the water. Doesn't worry about it. Just goes into her room wearing her underclothes and nothing else, keeping a towel draped over her shoulder as she answers the phone.

"Hello?"

"Patricia." It's Joy, but her voice is frantic. Breathy. Scared.

"Joy?" Patricia says questioningly.

"Yes, it's me- listen, I need you to do me a favor." Her voice stays frantic.

"What?"

"I need you to go to the police station in exactly one hour. No earlier, no later. Someone's waiting there. You'll ask for him- his name is Rufus-and he will give you a key. Drop the key off at my apartment. Then go home and lock yourself in. Don't go anywhere except for your apartment. Can you do that?" Joy's breathing slowly calms down.

"Joy, what the bloody hell is going on?" Patricia demands, confused.

"I...can't say right now. Can you do this for me or not?"

"Why can't Fabian?

"Fabian...he can't. God, Patricia, can you or not?" Joy's voice is raw. Desperate.

"But why?" Patricia isn't whining. She trusts Joy and understands she has to do what Joy tells her. But she also suspects there's more to what Joy is telling her, and the situation is suspicious.

"I can't explain. So can you?" Joy pleads.

"Alright, alright, I'll do it," replies Patricia.

"Good. And Patricia?"

"What?"

"Can you...not tell anyone about this?" Joy's voice is timid now. Meek.

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul," Patricia says, confused.

"And...Patricia?"

"Yeah."

"I-I know you and Eddie are...complicated, and stuff, and I really can't go into details right now...but please don't trust him. Don't speak to him." Joy's voice is slightly stronger. More hostile, but still meek.

"Joy-"

"Remember when you first met me?" Joy's voice holds a tinge of sadness. "I warned you I wasn't a very patient person, remember? I told you and all the other employees who worked with me to always count to three to muster courage or wait out a dangerous situation or to keep a level head. Well, I'm asking you to keep counting, today and always. Alright?"

"Joy." Patricia is even more confused.

"Please don't ask questions. I- I have to go!"

And she hangs up.

Patricia lets go of the phone. Lets it fall. Tries to remember the information. Shakes her head when she realizes she can, but doesn't know quite what to make of it. Stands and heads back to her bathroom because now her shower is going to have to wait.

And she realizes the water isn't sounding anymore.

She tenses. Remembers to count as Joy said. _One, two, three._

She grips the towel and ties it around her body. Grabs her gun from her room, which she quickly clicks into place, and she nudges open the bathroom door with her foot and raises the gun. Positions it.

And then- "Patricia."

Patricia whirls around. Gun stays in the air.

Eddie Miller is standing there. In her apartment. The man who knows she killed a man. The man who has her name tattooed on his neck. The man who Joy has cautioned only seconds earlier not to trust.

Patricia tightens the towel around her body. "What the hell?!" she exclaims.

"Don't shoot!" Eddie raises his hands. "I-"

"You pervert! Why are you in my apartment? _How_ are you in my apartment?!" Patricia is freaking out. Horrified. Maybe even scared, now that Joy has said not to trust Eddie, and Patricia trusts Joy.

Eddie takes a step back. "Patricia! Please, just- let me speak."

"I am not going to let you speak!" Patricia snaps, and she trains her gun.

"I-I know Joy told you not to trust me-"

"How do you know that? First you sneak into my apartment and now you're listening to my phone calls?! Joy's right, I never should trust you! You- you had better leave, or I'll call the police," Patricia says.

"Patricia," Eddie says softly, "please. Please let me speak."

"Why should I-"

"Damn it, Patricia, let me fucking speak!" Eddie snaps. "I know you always have to demand things and always question everybody because that's who you are, but there's no time for any of that! You have to let me tell you what's going on."

Patricia lowers her guard. Stares. "And why would you know what's going on?"

"Because I'm in the middle of it," Eddie answers. "Now, just listen to me. If you'll put down the gun, then we can sit down and have a normal conversation. I'll tell you everything and answer every question you might have. Does that sound good?"

"No, not from the mouth of a liar it doesn't," Patricia snaps.

"Come on, Patricia," Eddie growls, upset. "You don't have to trust me. You don't even have to believe me if you don't want to. But can you please just listen to me?"

Patricia frowns. "Fine," she spits. "You have ten minutes."

"Thank you." His answer is one of relief.

They sit at her table.

She doesn't get rid of the gun. Does put it down, though.

"First thing's first, you can't go to the police station. Rufus is a very dangerous man, and Joy has been led to believe that by sending you, she'll get the key that is holding Fabian in a locked room full of explosives. But Rufus has no key. All he has is a smuggled gun, which he's going to use to kill you, just like the man this morning."

"That man...he was..."

"Sent to kill you. However, he went into the wrong apartment when he saw someone who looks like you, who I assume is your twin?" Eddie doesn't pause for confirmation. "Joy thinks Rufus is going to save both her and Fabian and that I am the bad guy here."

"Oh, and I assume you're the good guy, then," Patricia says sarcastically.

"I am, actually," Eddie says nonchalantly. Calmly. "I'm an FBI agent, sent here on exchange with an American employee as a ruse because I got a lead that Rufus was targeting the company you work for. And Rufus knows I'm here."

"Then if he wants you, why is he trying to kill me?"

"Because he knows I...uh..." Eddie blushes. Hesitates. "Well, he's noticed that I've, um, gotten to like you since I've been here. And he thinks we're so close that if he were to kill you, then I'd willingly give in to whatever he said to do."

Patricia blinks at him. "You like me."

"Well, nice to know that's your top priority here," Eddie jokes.

"Don't joke, you idiot," Patricia snaps.

Eddie looks down. "Okay, maybe I do. So what?"

Patricia is confused. All this time, she'd assumed Eddie hated her. He always voiced that. He never made it seem he liked her. How can she just believe that?

"Prove it." Patricia's words comes out curtly. Like a challenge.

"How can I prove it?" Eddie is startled by her words.

"Why do you like me?"

"You're not even going to say anything about me liking you? I mean it's not like you were leading me on or anything, but, don't you like me a little bit too? I alway thought..." Eddie trails off.

"Shut up, Slimeball, and just answer the question," is Patricia's snappy reply.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says, and a few seconds later, he's smiling. "I really do like you. You're stubborn and mean and malicious but you're also loyal, and caring even if you deny it, and you just blow my mind, you know? You don't care what people think. You say whatever is on your mind. And maybe you're a little pushy, but...I like the way you are. You're...you, and I like that."

"Liar." The word comes out sharply. Like she's been waiting to say it.

Eddie laughs dryly in disbelief. "That's all you can say," he huffs.

"What? Did you expect a confession of my love too?" Patricia mocks.

Eddie looks at her, hurt. "Yacker, I just poured out my heart to you here."

"Yeah, what a bloody coincidence that you like me right when Joy tells me you can't be trusted," Patricia retorts. "How can I believe you with just your words? You can make all that up."

"You think I can say something like that and make it up?"

"I don't know what you can do! You broke into my apartment, know I killed a man, and claim you're some sort of James Bond or something! I don't know what to expect out of you," Patricia says bitterly.

Eddie tugs down his shirt. "This is your name, remember?" he says. "I told you I got this tattoo for you, and I didn't lie. One night I was drunk and you were, as always, on my mind, so I ran away with that. I got this tattoo a few weeks after I met you. You have to believe that."

"So what?"

"So...you should just admit you feel something for me, too," Eddie says quietly. "I'm just a tin can standing in front of a tank, asking if she'll let her walls fall down, because mine have already fallen."

"You're really thick to assume I like you, you know," is Patricia's reply.

"I know."

"And...if what you're saying is true..."

"It is."

Patricia sighs. Eyes him wearily. "I don't trust you," she states. "And I'm not sure I even believe you. But if you can somehow get me to Joy and Fabian and explain what's happening to them and to the company, I'll try to both trust and believe you."

"And admit you like me too?"

"Oh, don't push it, you arse."

Eddie smiles. "Well, I'll take what I can get, then. Keep asking questions."

"Right. Where are Joy and Fabian?"

"Fabian's being held in a room full of explosives that are timed to be set off in about four hours. Joy, at least to my knowledge, is being held by some of Rufus's henchmen and was able to contact you and feed you the fake information through her phone, but is most likely being held at gunpoint," Eddie answers readily.

"And what's going on with the company?"

"Rufus wants money," Eddie replies. "He has an ongoing feud with one of the company's associates, Victor, and decided to get back at Victor by stealing this money. He did so successfully for a while, but Mara changed the password and he sent in a man to get the new one, leading to today's events."

"Well, why did Joy and Fabian get taken? They just went to the police and to send an email to everyone," Patricia said. "It's not like they went after Rufus or did anything."

"Yes, but they were a threat to Rufus," Eddie counters. "They could've ended Rufus's little game, and he couldn't stand the idea, so he sent in men to take them and kill them."

"Wait, his _game_?"

"Yes. Twisted it may seem, Rufus finds every one of his little plots like a game," Eddie replies. "I analyzed lots of his work when I was assigned to this case. He treats everything like a ploy. Treats every person involved like a player."

"So that's it, then? I'm a player in his sick, twisted games?"

Eddie shakes his head. Looks at her.

"No, Patricia. To him you're not a player; you're bait."

* * *

**Okay you are all amazing people, especially my reviewers:**

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**Everyone's been so supportive of this story so far. Thank you so, so much, everybody.**


	4. Four

So I got my driver's permit...and here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.

* * *

**Tuesday, June 28th, 11:30 A.M.**

When Patricia Williamson opens her eyes, she doesn't know where to begin.

"You," she starts slowly, "like me?"

Eddie laughs. "Still your first priority, isn't it?"

"Don't laugh at me," mumbles Patricia. "But you do, don't you?"

Eddie looks at her. Nods slowly. "Yeah, I do," he admits.

Patricia is quiet. Stays quiet. "Do I like you back?"

"Well, I'd assume you knew the answer to that," teases Eddie, but his voice is timid.

"I'm being serious here, Slimeball," Patricia snaps. "I-I want to know."

"Well, I'm sure you're expecting this, but, you know the answer," Eddie replies, and he grins when she scowls at him. "C'mon, Yacker, just finish telling me what you remember."

"No." Patricia keeps scowling. Tries to stay angry.

But it's all Eddie's fault that his smile is so damn contagious.

"_The_ Yacker Williamson doesn't want to yack?" Eddie says. Gasps mockingly.

Patricia rolls her eyes. "Shut up, you idiot."

Eddie chuckles. Lets the comment roll off him. And then just like that, just a second later, his face falls somber. He becomes serious. And he reaches for Patricia's hand again.

"Tell me something," he says softly. "Do you really hate me?"

The answer's yes. Why wouldn't it be yes? Eddie Miller is a nuisance. He's an annoying prat. He's found a way to get under Patricia's skin, the way he teases her whenever he gets a chance, or the way he always finds some way to bug her every day.

And then she realizes something.

"I don't think I'd ever hate anybody more than I hate you," she informs him. Watches as his face falls. Smirks when she sees how vulnerable he is. And then she continues, "But...I hate my sister, too."

"Your twin sister?"

"Yes. Piper has always...found a way to get under my skin without ever trying," Patricia says quietly. Pauses. "She never did anything to deserve my hate. You still get under my skin, and you do try. You deserve my hate. And somehow, you're not _too_ bad, so I guess I don't _really_ hate you."

"So...you might like me," Eddie responds smugly.

Patricia makes a face. "Oh, don't read into it too deeply, you arse."

"Still as charming as the day we met," Eddie jokes. "Remember? I was just sitting in the break room when you and Joy walked by. And then you rudely made me nearly fall off the couch, said some nasty words to me, and you were out the door."

"Alright, first of all, you were asleep in the break room, and I only started yelling at you because you were blocking the _bloody_ path out of the room," Patricia snaps.

Eddie just grins. "Guess I made an impression, if you remember all that."

"Yeah, a bloody idiotic one," Patricia gripes.

Eddie shifts forward.

Patricia realizes he's still holding her hand.

"So if you can remember that," Eddie says, "surely you can remember three days ago, can't you? I know you technically don't have to do it, but will you do it for me?"

"For you? No."

"Okay, then, for Joy."

"..._fine_."

Patricia shuts her eyes.

_One, two, three_, and then she starts to speak.

**Saturday, June 25th, 10:13 A.M.**

"Bait. I'm the bloody _bait_."

"Well, you're taking this differently than I expected," Eddie notes.

Patricia frowns at him.

Eddie quickly quiets.

"I just don't _understand_," Patricia rants. She glares at Eddie. "Why am I bait? I get that this Rufus guy wants to get to you, but the guy chooses to drag an innocent person into this when-"

"To be fair, you did kill one of his men, so innocent wouldn't be right-"

"Don't try to turn this on _me_, Slimeball-"

"Patricia," Eddie cuts her off. "As much as I'd like to listen to your ranting-"

"Don't be a sarcastic arse-"

"-we have a pretty pressing situation here," Eddie finishes. "Right now, you've got to get out of here. Rufus is going to think you're going to go to the police station like Joy told you to, or just stay in your apartment. We need to get you away from both."

"So, what, you just expect me to follow you?"

"You're not exactly right to take charge," Eddie replies, and his lips quirk into a smile; his eyes scan her body up and down, and Patricia realizes she's still just wearing a towel.

"Quit staring," she snaps. Lays a finger on the gun.

Eddie raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm only human," he says, and he stands up, prompting Patricia to do so as well. "But even though I like you better this way-"

"I _will_ shoot you-"

"-you'd better get changed. And preferably something you can run in."

"Hold on, who says I'm going with you?" Patricia snaps. Glowers.

Eddie hesitates. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Steps forward.

Patricia touches the gun.

_One_.

He's close to her. Really close.

_Two_.

His breath is warm above her face.

_Three_.

His eyes flicker to her face. To her eyes, to her lips.

He could kiss her.

Maybe he will kiss her.

Why does she want him to kiss her?

Damn him for being so bloody attractive. Damn him for being so close to her and messing with her good judgment. Damn him for liking her in the first place and messing up everything she's ever known. Damn him for being _him_.

"Please," he whispers, and his eyes lock with hers. "I'm saying this as a guy who really cares about you and really doesn't want you to die. I'm saying this for Joy, for Piper, for everyone who wants you alive. I know this all sounds unbelievable and you probably don't believe it, but everything I told you is true. You're in danger. So are Joy and Fabian. Please just say you'll leave here with me."

Patricia exhales. Stares deeply into his eyes, which look misty. Lets her eyes flicker to his lips. Finally speaks. "Alright," she says softly, and she meets his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I trust you."

He's relieved. "Okay," he says.

But they're still close.

So close.

And Patricia might not like the guy, but she sure as hell is attracted to him.

He doesn't back away. Keeps his eyes on hers. His breathing becomes erratic. Patricia stares back. Doesn't back away. Lets him stay there. Lets him wonder just how this is going to play out. Lets herself wonder the same thing.

His hand reaches over and takes hers. Takes her hand away from the gun. Gently intertwines their fingers, but keeps his eyes locked with hers. His other hand gently goes to her chin. He's nervous. Nervous that this is happening. Nervous she might not let this happen.

But she lets him. Just stares. Doesn't move. Doesn't protest.

He leans forward. Keeps his eyes open. Watches as hers close. He keeps leaning. Gets close, so close. He gives himself three seconds. Three seconds, and he'll kiss her. Just three.

_One_.

He closes his eyes.

_Two_.

Her breathing becomes erratic.

_Three_.

His lips touch hers.

The kiss starts gentle. The pressure Eddie gives to her lips is minimal. Fleeting. And then Patricia kisses him back. Matches the pressure he's giving carefully. Reaches for his cheek with her free hand.

He lets go of her hand. Places both hands on her shoulders.

And things get complicated.

Eddie tilts his head. Slowly begins to deepen the kiss. Patricia doesn't resist; she's entranced by the way his lips work against hers. She matches his movements. Kisses him as hard as she can. The feeling he gives her is euphoric. It's dizzying. It's...

"Patricia," he whispers urgently against her lips.

She doesn't answer. Kisses him more roughly, which he doesn't object to; rather, he kisses back just as roughly, clinking his teeth against hers. She gently tugs on his lower lip while he explores her mouth, probing every part of it he can reach.

Her fingers go to the nape of his neck.

His hands grip the sides of her face.

"Patricia," he mutters again and breaks his lips away.

"What?" she mumbles, her breath hot against his lips.

"We...have to get going," he says.

Patricia opens her eyes.

Eddie opens his eyes too.

Patricia blinks as if seeing him for the first time. Maybe she is, in a metaphorical sense. Because when she looks at him, she doesn't see a man she hates. She sees a man who she might..._like_. And that might be a problem, considering who he is.

"I'll go change," she says.

He nods awkwardly.

**Tuesday, June 28th, 12:00 A.M.**

Eyes open.

"This doesn't make sense."

Eddie looks embarrassed. "Er, what doesn't?"

"Us." Patricia is blunt. Always has been.

"And...why not?"

"Not us right _now_, but us three days ago," explains Patricia. "The stuff I've been telling you? I knew most of it already and I was just recounting details. I just don't know if we got through or not."

"And?"

"And what happened between us...us kissing...took place before we tried to get through," Patricia says quietly. "It should've, anyway. So why don't I at least remember that?"

"I don't know," Eddie answers honestly. "I really don't."

Patricia huffs. Wants to hit him.

But she just closes her eyes instead.

**Tuesday, June 28th, 12:00 P.M. (afternoon)**

"Where are you taking me?"

Eddie keeps his hands on the wheel. Eyes trained forward.

"Somewhere," he replies vaguely.

Patricia rolls her eyes.

They reach a warehouse. Small and gray, it looks ordinary.

But Patricia doesn't notice the building. She just notices the way Eddie's body tenses and the way he lets go of the steering wheel a little too roughly. _There's a bad memory he's fighting_, she decides.

Which brings her back to her first question.

_Why is he taking her there?_

"This is a safe house," he announces. "I need you to stay here."

"What about Joy and Fabian?" Patricia is skeptical. Always skeptical.

"I'll find them, but I need you to stay here," Eddie says firmly. "Come on."

Patricia opens the car door. Exits.

The place looks empty.

It should be empty...

**BANG**.

The shot comes from inside.

Eddie is startled.

"Who's there?" he yells. Whips out a gun Patricia hadn't noticed he had.

Eddie kicks down the door. Patricia follows him inside.

There's a man standing there. There's a smirk on his face and a gun in his hand. He slowly walks over to Eddie. Grins at him. Shakes his head. "Put the gun down, Miller."

Patricia watches as Eddie does what he says.

"Rufus," Eddie mutters, but his voice isn't cold. It's not authoritative. His voice is apologetic. Knowing. Not like a man who is supposed to be arresting someone. "Sorry I took so long."

Three men surround Patricia. Grab her arms. Force them behind her back.

Patricia's mouth falls open. "You lied to me," she tells Eddie stiffly. Angrily.

Eddie doesn't meet her eyes. "I had to," he says.

"So this is the girl," Rufus muses. "Well, great work, there, detective," he says to Eddie teasingly. He then looks at Patricia. "So you're the bitch who killed one of my men this morning, eh? Funny how things work out."

"He threatened my sister," Patricia snarls.

"He was doing his job to intimidate Alfie Lewis," Rufus snarls back. "Now he's still alive, and so is your pathetic sister. But don't worry about that for now, because I'm not killing you for that."

Patricia struggles. Aims a kick at him.

Rufus doesn't budge. Just smirks at her. "But don't think I'm not going to kill you, either," he says. "I might very well have to, if your friend here doesn't cooperate." He opens what looks like a closet door, and an unconscious Joy hits the floor.

"Joy!" Patricia's voice is frantic.

"Tie her in the chair," Rufus demands.

The three men sit Patricia down despite the struggle she gives into a chair, where they bind her arms and legs with rope. Eddie then goes over to Joy and lifts her up by her arm, setting her into a smiliar chair, but leaves her the way she is.

"Hold out your gun, Miller," Rufus orders.

Eddie does.

"Fire it," says Rufus.

Eddie does.

**BANG**.

This wakes up Joy.

"What the hell?" is the first thing out of her mouth. "What was that for?!" She sees Patricia. Her eyes widen. "Fuck," she whispers. "They got you too."

Eddie presses his gun to Joy's temple.

Rufus laughs. "Joy, is it?" he says. "Since you did your part so well of calling a friend here, I thought you would enjoy seeing her at least once before I kill her."

Joy's eyes widen. "You said no one would listen in to my call."

"I lied," Rufus says smugly. "I told you to call your friend to get a key for you to save your little boyfriend, didn't I? Well, I did _not_ let you to warn her about Eddie. Now, instead of just hearing your friend is dead, I've decided to let you watch her death."

"You bastard," Joy spits. "You said I could save him!"

"I lied about that too." Rufus shrugs. "But I'll give you a wager. You tell me the password, I spare your friend here, and I might even give you the key to save your boyfriend."

"Don't give it to him, Joy," Patricia calls.

Joy looks at her. "Patricia, this is just money we're losing," she pleads. "I'd gladly lose all the money in the world if it meant I wouldn't have to lose you or Fabian."

"Joy, listen to me, he's just going to kill us anyway."

Rufus slams his fist on a table nearby. Glares at Patricia. "That's enough talking," he says coldly. "You"- here he looks at Joy- "had better give me the password in the next three seconds, or you might as well kiss all your friends goodbye."

"Joy, don't do it!"

"One," Rufus counts.

"Joy," Patricia pleads. "Don't."

"Two," Rufus continues.

Joy closes her eyes. Squeezes her eyes so tears drip down her face.

"Three," Rufus finishes. Looks at Joy expectantly.

"I'll never tell you the password," Joy spits out. "Go ahead and shoot me."

Rufus smirks. "It's not you we're shooting."

His icy blue eyes fall on Patricia.

Eddie takes the gun away from Joy's temple. Aims it at Patricia.

"Tell us or she dies," Rufus warns.

Joy looks at Patricia. Pleads silently.

Patricia shakes her head.

"Go ahead, Slimeball," she says at Eddie. Mocks him. "Shoot me."

Eddie frowns. Grits his teeth. "Shut up," he mutters.

Rufus signals him not to shoot yet.

Patricia laughs dryly. Glares at Eddie. "Shoot," she repeats.

"Stop talking, damn it," Eddie growls.

"Oh, now you can't even shoot," Patricia says, and she raises her voice. "Well, you're pathetic. And you know what? I was wrong to trust you. I never should have. And now you're standing there like a dumb animal who can't even work a gun."

"Shut up."

"You can't tell me what to do," Patricia snaps.

"Damn you! SHUT UP!" Eddie yells.

"MAKE ME!" Patricia yells back.

Eddie looks at Rufus for clarification.

Rufus nods at Eddie. "Go ahead, Miller," he says calmly. "Shoot her."

Eddie clicks the gun into place.

Faces Patricia.

And then he swivels around and shoots.

**BANG**.

Rufus cusses angrily as the bullet grazes his arm. Glares at Eddie.

"You-"

He's cut off as Joy stands up, no longer threatened. Knees Rufus in the groin. Slaps him across the face. Screams obscenities at him as tears streak down her face, which she never moves to wipe.

"Where's Fabian?" she demands.

Rufus laughs. He's in pain. Blood drips out of his mouth.

"Dead," he says. "Or as good as dead."

The three other men in the room attack. One of them shoves Joy off Rufus; the other helps him up. The third man whips out a gun clicks it into place to shoot Eddie, but Eddie shoots first.

**BANG**.

The shot lands in the man's neck. Blood spurts. Gushes. Explodes.

A few drops land on Patricia's face. The blood's still warm. Still has the essence of life. But Patricia knows the man, no matter how warm the blood is, is dead. Soon enough his blood will become cold. Cold just like the man he is, dying on the floor.

Joy, meanwhile, is yanked upwards by her neck by one of the men. The man slams her against the wall. Spits in her face and demands the password. Joy struggles. Insists she won't tell him. But her red face soons becomes purple. She's soon gasping for breath.

Soon, she won't be able to tell him at all.

The man unsheathes a knife now. Brings it to Joy's face. Uses the silver tip to carve a thin line in Joy's cheek. Small droplets of blood appear. The man keeps insisting Joy to speak. Joy continues to gasp for breath. The man begins to carve a deeper line in her cheek.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Patricia screams. Struggles in her chair.

**BANG**.

The man falls forward. Joy drops at the same time he does.

But the man is dying. Eddie's shot must have hit a major organ, because the man is blubbering. Blood spills from his mouth. He trembles on the floor. Joy, however, isn't dying. She slowly regains her breath. Slowly turns a normal color.

**BANG**.

The man who helped Rufus up falls. A direct gunshot to the head.

"Your game's over, Rufus," Eddie says. Aims his gun at the man.

Rufus laughs. A deep, dry laugh. "Miller," he says calmly. "Don't tell me you're-"

"-A double agent? I am," Eddie says. "Now come with me; you're under arrest."

Rufus takes out a gun of hiw own. Aims it at Eddie. "I don't think so."

"Put the gun down, Rufus," Eddie says.

Rufus smirks. "Alright."

He lowers his arm. Lower, lower, lower-

**BANG**.

He's pulled the trigger.

Shot a bullet.

Right at Patricia.

A hot stab of pain is what she feels first. Her breath is knocked away. Her heart rate picks up speed. She's been shot. Eddie really didn't betray her. Joy didn't give away the password. Fabian might be dead.

_And she's been shot._

"PATRICIA!" Joy's voice is wounded. Frantic.

Eddie yells at Rufus. Shoots angrily.

**BANG**.

The bullet doesn't hit him. He's run out the door.

Eddie hurries to Patricia's side. Starts to untie the rope.

Until Joy slaps him across the face.

"What the hell?!" she explodes. "You- you- you were _a double agent_?!"

"Yes, and _ow_," Eddie says, rubbing his cheek. "What was that for?"

"Um...self-defense?"

Patricia hears this all. Wants to laugh. She might've if she could. But right now everything is wrong. She's in pain. So much pain. Too much pain. And when she puts a hand on her abdomen her fingers are stained with red. She's bleeding.

There's so much blood.

Too much blood.

Eddie unties Patricia. "Yacker, stay with me," he pleads.

Patricia crumbles on the floor. Shakes her head.

_You lied to me_, she wants to say.

Eddie moves to pick her up.

"Hey, don't touch her," Joy interrupts.

"We have to get her to safety," Eddie argues.

"I don't trust you." Joy's blunt now. Maybe she picked that up from Patricia.

"I know! But-"

"Hey! What are you guys doing here?!" The voice is cheery. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Amber Millington then enters the warehouse.

"Amber?" Joy's voice holds disbelief.

"Yes, it's me," Amber says. Sighs. "Is my uncle late for an appointment with you guys? I love the man, but honestly, he is _so_ late to everything. But hi! It's great to..." She stops. Sees Patricia. "Oh my God you're bleeding. Ewwww!" she shrieks.

"Who's your uncle?" Eddie asks in a low voice.

"You don't know? His name is Rufus Zeno. You know, business tycoon?"

Joy groans. "Just our bloody luck."

But Patricia doesn't hear the lament. All she hears is Amber's reply to Eddie's question. Rufus is her uncle. Alfie is her boyfriend. Rufus tried to kill Piper to scare Alfie. Intended to kill Alfie as well.

"Ask her if she's still dating Alfie," Patricia croaks softly.

Only Eddie hears, but he listens.

"Amber, are you still dating Alfie?" he asks.

"Huh? Oh, yes, I am," Amber replies happily. "He's really not _too_ bad as a boyfriend, you know. I mean sure he's forgetful and a bit too idiotic, but he's also so loyal and sweet that he's worth keeping."

Patricia hears her, but fainly, because she's tired. Her eyes are closing. There's so much pain. So, so much, and it's making her tired. Making her want to close her eyes and never wake up. And it will be easy to do so. So, so easy...

Her eyes catch sight of a panel sticking in the wall.

"Amber." Patricia's voice is stronger. "What's that?"

She gestures to the panel.

"Oh, that," replies Amber breezily. "It's my uncle's storage compartment. He keeps his guns and weapons and explosives in there, because he works as a supplier for the army and such as part of his business."

Joy gasps. _Explosives_. That might mean...

"Fabian," she whispers. Her face goes pale.

Eddie catches on. "Can you open it for us?" he asks Amber.

"Oh, you need a code for that," Amber replies.

"...Do you know the code?"

"You know, I think I might," Amber says thoughtfully. "It's only four numbers long, and I've seen him type it in so many times. Here, come with me!" She leads Joy and Eddie over there. Patricia stays on the floor. Dying.

Patricia is about to close her eyes when she hears footsteps.

Rufus is coming back.

She opens her mouth. Calls to the others.

But all that comes out of her mouth is a whimper. A soft one.

Rufus stops in front of her. Sees Patricia dying. Smirks. And then he grips his gun and walks past her, towards his niece and the two people with her, never breaking a brisk walk.

"I think I've got it," Amber informs Eddie and Joy.

She presses in one number.

Rufus uses his gun to hit Joy in the back of the head.

Joy crumples to the floor, unconscious.

Amber presses in the second number.

Rufus hits Eddie in the back of the head.

Eddie crumples to the floor, unconscious.

Amber presses in the third number.

Rufus yanks her away from the panel.

"Amber," he growls.

"Uncle Rufus, hi!" Amber sputters. "I was just-"

"Being foolish. Like always," Rufus snarls. "Come on, you're going home."

He leaves. Drags Amber away.

Patricia looks towards the panel. One more number. Just one more...

She stands up. The pain stabs her where she was shot. Blood continues to drip out of her wound with every movement she takes. Patricia lets that happen. Grits her teeth as she moves towards the panel and her friend.

There are explosives in that room.

Fabian is in that room.

She has to get there. She has to save him.

Patricia starts to count.

_One_.

Reaches the panel.

_Two_.

Stares numbly at the numbers punched in already.

_Three_.

Reaches out. How can she guess a number?

Wait. _Three_.

Could it be-?

Patricia exhales. Stares at the panel. Then down at Joy. Then at Eddie.

And, finally, she hits the number three.

* * *

**Story's almost done! Before I leave to wash dishes (because I have to), thank you to my reviewers! You guys are too nice to me, I swear.**

**Dancing Through Daisies- Responding to you here because your PM is off. So, um, wow! Your review just made me freak out so much because you were so sweet and nice about this story! You actually like this story?! That's so nice of you! Thank you so much!**

**YackAttack**

**sheerio4ever**

**rachelisafallenangel**

**Peddie213**


	5. Five

Final chapter of "Three"! Everybody ready? ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.

* * *

**Tuesday, June 28th, 1:00 P.M.**

Shock.

Patricia Williamson is in shock. Horrible shock.

This can't be happening.

How is it that two people can do this to her?

"Neither of you know if I got through, do you?" Patricia says quietly. "You or Joy. That's why neither of you answered me. That's why both of you want me to remember."

Eddie sighs. "No, we don't," he agrees.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted you to remember. Can you still remember?"

"Yes, I do," Patricia says. "And...I think I realize why you're so admant about hearing this, even when you said you'd get hurt by it." She bites her lip. Looks at him. Waits.

Eddie's lips stretch into a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then, what's the reason?" Eddie is still smiling. Smugly, even.

Patricia huffs. Really doesn't understand why he's teasing her the way he is.

"Because," is what Patricia says.

"Because-?"

"Because you love me!" Patricia snaps.

Eddie's smile goes from smug to gentle. "Geez, Yacker, you're so self-centered."

"Slimeball-!"

"Just kidding," Eddie says. Laughs. Smiles. Then his face falls, but only slightly, and he says, "I know you're barely remembering everything that happened and need time concerning the topic of..._us_, so, can we pretend this never happened?"

Patricia smirks. "And let you live down that you're in love with me? Never."

Eddie chuckles. "Okay, so I deserve that."

The room gets quiet.

Patricia doesn't feel awkward. Why is it that she doesn't feel awkward? A guy she hated just admitted (or indirectly admitted) his love for her. She's never had that happen. She never thought it'd happen. So why isn't she more weirded out about this than she is?

"Um, Eddie?" His name sounds weird coming out of Patricia's mouth.

"Yeah?"

"I...want to keep talking," says Patricia quietly.

"You always do; that's why your nickname is Yacker, remember?"

"..."

"Okay, okay, don't stare at me like that. Or- _ow_- twist my finger like that!"

Patricia just smirks. Just closes her eyes.

Just..._remembers_.

**Tuesday, June 28th, 1:43 P.M.**

"PATRICIA, GET OUT OF HERE!"

Patricia sways. Looks at Fabian with half-lidded eyes.

Pain. There's just so much of it. Still making her tired. Still making her weak.

Still...still, still, still.

"PATRICIA!"

Fabian is racing towards her.

Jerome is reaching for Mara.

Wait. Jerome? Mara? Mara is supposed to be at the hospital, dying. Jerome is supposed to be there with her, watching her die. Why are they here with Fabian? How are they here with Fabian?

Patricia stumbles inside of the storage room.

Should the walls be spinning? Well, they are. And the floor is getting closer...oh wait, that's because she's falling. Falling at Jerome's feet. Bet he'd make a joke of it. Bet he'd insist it would happen eventually. Bet he'd normally take advantage of the situation to make said joke.

Drops of blood dot Patricia's forehead.

Mara is still bleeding. She's bleeding a lot. Not from her bullet wound. From a fresh one that's just below her collarbone. The cut looks deep. Serious. At least her bullet wound seems to have stopped bleeding. Jerome's coat seems to be tied tightly around Mara's torso to stop the bleeding. Typical Jerome, being the softie...

"Rutter, we need to get out of here!" Jerome growls.

Patricia feels fingers dig into her shoulder. Hears her name again.

Maybe it's Fabian.

Maybe it's someone else.

"Rutter, I am taking Mara out of here." Oh, Jerome. Too in love with Mara Jaffray.

"We can't leave Patricia; she just saved us!" Oh, Fabian. Too good.

"He's right, Jerome." Oh, Mara. Too nice.

They're too much right now. Patricia just wants to close her eyes and sleep now that they're safe; why can't they just leave already? Why can't they stop talking and give her some peace and quiet?

"The door's closing. Jerome, get to the door-!"

Door closes.

Hope shatters.

"It's closed. Bloody closed," Jerome spits.

"Jerome." Mara's voice is soft.

"We could've gone out if it wasn't for you, Fabian!" yells Jerome.

"Me? You could've gone if you wanted. Typical Jerome, you'd have been then. Never stopping to think about the big pictures. Always just concerned about yourself and never anyone else," Fabian fires back.

"Mara is _dying_," Jerome snaps. "If that bloody guy in the next room hadn't crashed the ambulance and kidnapped Mara, this wouldn't have been a problem. But do you know something, Rutter? When Mara was taken, I went in after her. I tried to help her when they cut her trying to get a password out of her. I came into this ticking time bomb of a cell to protect her. So get off my case, because I am not only concerned about myself; I AM CONCERNED ABOUT MY WIFE!"

"And how convinient that she's _your_ wife!"

Patricia laughs lightly. Tips her head slightly.

Dying. That's what she is.

Unless she's already dead.

"You two are idiots," she mumbles. Fights sleep. "Idiots, idiots, idiots..."

They don't hear.

No one hears.

Mara tries to move out of Jerome's grip. "Jerome, _Patricia_."

"What?"

"She's _dying_."

Patricia closes her eyes. So she isn't dead. Fabian, Jerome, and Mara aren't dead. So this isn't heaven or anything like that. That's actually quite a relief; if this was heaven, she'd probably request a room in hell instead.

Fabian crouches beside Patricia. "Patricia, can you hear me?"

Patricia opens her eyes. Sees blood as it drips down Mara.

"Yes," Patricia answers.

Fabian exhales. "Good. Stay awake, alright?"

"Hmm. Fabian?"

"Y-yes?"

"I...want to say the same thing to you." Patricia sighs. Shifts slightly on the floor. Groans as pain shoots through her body, lingering in her abdomen. "Isn't...place...explosives..."

Fabian sighs. Looks at Jerome. Wipes bloody sweat off his brow. "How much longer?" he asks. His voice cracks, but at least he doesn't stutter, which he often does.

Jerome hesitates. _One, two, three_. "Just three minutes left," he answers.

Mara begins to cry. Tears roll down her cheeks. Mingle with the blood that pours from her cut. Patricia sees now that her nose appears to have gushed its fair share of blood too.

"Jaffray, don't cry," Jerome pleads. "We'll think of something."

"No we won't." Mara keeps crying. Loses hope.

They all have to lose hope.

**BANG**.

Patricia's thoughts are muddled, but she hears the bang. Knows it means Rufus must be outside. Knows it means he's cornered her two friends who must be dying right now.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Rufus is screaming. He's angry. So angry.

_She_ must be Patricia.

Movement. Must be Eddie. "Rufus, let her go," he demands.

_Her_ must be Joy.

"Tell me where the girl is." That's Rufus.

"I don't know where she is." That's Eddie.

"Let me go, you sick bastard!" That's Joy.

"Oh? Because I see a trail of blood leading to my storage unit." Rufus sounds smug now when he speaks. "She must be in there, along with your precious boyfriend. And the explosives will explode any minute now."

"What?!" That's Joy.

Rufus's laugh sounds. Echoes.

"You asshole." That's Eddie. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to _fucking_ kill you."

Rufus keeps laughing. "Miller, don't tell me you _like_ the girl."

"I'm going to fucking kill you." Still Eddie.

"But you apparently do." Rufus keeps talking. Doesn't seem to want to stop. "I mean, someone's name is one your neck; could it be her name, perhaps?"

"I'm going to-"

"Kill me, I know. But before your girlfriend dies, what do you say her name does?" Rufus must let go of Joy, because Patricia hears Joy cuss and kick at something. He must approach Eddie next.

Eddie's voice sounds. "Get away from me."

"Eddie!" Joy.

"Gladly." Rufus.

Eddie then starts to scream. A low, guttural scream that sounds awful. Sounds inhuman. Sounds like the scream of an animal being tortured. Sounds like the scream of someone who is getting hurt in a way that will never leave them right again.

LIke someone who is getting burned.

"BASTARD! YOU- YOU LET HIM GO!" Joy.

"I'd worry less about Miller and more about your boyfriend, about to die." Rufus.

This must sink into Joy's brain, because Patricia faintly hears Joy begin to slam on the wall of the storage unit, screaming Fabian's name and sobbing in a way that makes Patricia's heart ache.

"Joy! Joy, I'm here!" Fabian calls back. Rests his hands on the wall.

Eddie's scream sound less. He whimpers now. Groans.

Rufus's laugh echoes. Fades. He's leaving. Leaving them to die.

Patricia tries not to laugh too. Places a hand on her bullet wound to distract herself from the pain. Presses the spot, hoping that the pain will subside. Her hand comes back red. Red and wet. Patricia lets a laugh escape then.

Ironic.

Bloody ironic, and no pun intended.

All Patricia Williamson knows is blood. All she'll ever know is blood.

And now she's dying.

Bleeding out.

Dying with so much blood.

"Patricia, tell us what the code is!" Jerome.

"Jerome, she doesn't know it." Mara.

"Yes she does; she got in here, didn't she?" Jerome.

Sirens. They begin to blare. Rufus has contacted the police.

Joy begins to bang harder on the door.

Eddie continues to groan.

Fabian calls Joy's name. Lets his voice grow hoarse.

Jerome yells. Yells at everyone. Everything.

Mara bleeds even more. Drip, drip, drip.

"POLICE!"

Joy bangs.

Eddie groans.

"You're coming with us." That's the police.

Cliché. So cliché. What a line, that one, for police officers. Patricia lauhs harder. Feels the pain spasm through her body. Hears Mara's concerned cries. Hears Jerome's curse words. Hears Fabian's desperate voice.

She has to say goodbye now, doesn't she?

Oh, damn that. She'd rather count and let death take her.

_One_.

Jerome yells something. Fabian falls to the floor.

_Two_.

Mara screams. Jerome yells his love for her. She echoes it.

_Three_.

There is a shattering sound, and Patricia's body flies.

Hits the ground hard. Sends a fresh wave of pain to her wound. Patricia reaches for the wound and finds her hand already bloody. Reaches for her other hand and finds it just as bad.

"MARA!" That's Jerome. His face is bloody.

Mara's pale. Pale and bloody. She's on the floor. Not moving. Not breathing.

"She's not dead, not dead..." That's Fabian. He's limping. Bloody too.

Jerome gives Mara CPR.

Patricia looks away. Looks for Joy. Looks for Eddie.

Joy and Eddie aren't outside.

The police are. And they're walking towards them.

Fire.

The storage unit is on fire. The explosives didn't kill everyone, but they did start a fire. And that fire is spreading. Spreading to guns and gunpowder and Patricia laughs. Laughs because the explosions won't be over yet.

Burn, burn, burn.

They're all going to burn.

_Patricia_ is going to burn. She's not in the fire; her body flew away from it with the impact of the explosion, but she can see the fire. Sees the orange and yellow flames that flicker too close to her and her friends. Feels the heat of the fire on her face. It stings. Stings what must be cuts on her face. Heat and blood. Blood and heat.

Does blood burn?

It must. Maybe when it's dry.

Heat, heat, heat- it's scorching. Patricia is sweating.

Blood drips off her forehead. It's mixed with sweat. So much sweat because there's so much heat. Too much blood because she has to many cuts. More blood than sweat. That's why the drops are still mostly red. Some are lighter red. Some are dark. Dusty with soot of the fire.

Fire. It's reaching the gunpowder. But slowly. So slowly...

Too slowly.

"Patricia!" Fabian's voice. He's noticed Joy isn't there.

Patricia doesn't look at him. Focuses on the blood and sweat and soot that rolls of her face. Soon she won't be able to see it anymore, because she'll be dead. The fire will start up more violently and she'll be dead.

Blood.

Keeps hurting when it drips.

Sweat.

Keeps rolling off as the heat comes closer.

Screw this. Screw all of this. Patricia doesn't like the heat. Doesn't like blood, even if all she knows is blood. No, not just screw this. Fuck this. Fuck this like all the American sailors say to do.

And she kisses her mother with that mouth...

No. No, she won't anymore. She'll never see her mother again. And does it really matter? Her mother has never been fond of Patricia anyway. It's always just been Piper. Piper is the favorite. Piper...

What happened to Piper?

To Alfie?

Rufus might've killed them. Maybe they're dead.

Maybe they aren't.

But Patricia knows Rufus only wanted to kill them because Alfie was cheating on Amber. Cheating on Amber with Piper. But can she assume that? Maybe Alfie and Piper aren't even together. Maybe they're friends. Just friends.

Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Patricia watches the fire now. It's flickering. Dancing. Weaving its way through the storage unit in a dizzying, electrifying way. The colors are so bright. The light it gives is so bright. It burns her eyes. Burns her face. Burns everything in its path.

Keeps burning.

Keeps-

"You guys!" Amber. She's come back, and she's in a car. Waving. But not from the entrance of the house. No, she's at the back of the house, which she can be seen from the gaping hole all the explosives have left. She knows it's dangerous for them to be caught by the police. She's their getaway car.

Jerome picks up Mara. Fabian staggers towards them.

Towards Amber.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" The police are yelling.

Patricia wants to go towards them. Wants to follow them.

"Patricia!" Fabian is calling for her.

Patricia leans her head on the floor. Doesn't move. She's so bloody. So, so bloody. And she knows she's going to die. She knows blood. Knows she's going to die. It's not like she can die in Amber's car. She can't go with them even if she wants to.

But she can't say goodbye either.

Maybe in her mind.

Always in her mind.

_Goodbye, Fabian._

Thank you for trying to save me.

_Goodbye, Jerome._

Thank you for making me laugh.

_Goodbye, Mara._

Thank you for staying strong.

_Goodbye, Piper._

Thank you for being my twin.

_Goodbye, Joy._

Thank you for being my best friend.

_Goodbye, Eddie._

Thank you for loving me.

Patricia closes her eyes, finally. It's time. Time she gave up.

Amber's tires squeal when they peel away. It's good; they've gone. They're safe. Maybe Mara will live. Maybe Fabian will be okay. Maybe Jerome will get over everything. Maybe it will all work out...

"Miss, stay with me! We're going to get you to a hospital..."

Patricia doesn't stay with whoever is talking to her. They can take her to a hospital all they want. It doesn't matter. She's going to die anyway. The least they could do is just let her die here.

"Miss? Miss!"

Patricia just drifts off into sleep.

_Idiots_. Thinking they can save someone whose death is waiting.

Death.

Death will be waiting for them all.

Can't they see the fires?

Can't they see the gunpowder?

A single flame licks upwards. Reaches a high shelf where guns are. Reaches a high shelf where a bag of gunpowder rests. The flame touches it. Slowly burns through the bag. Slowly reaches its contents.

And everything goes fully and utterly black.

**Tuesday, June 28th, 2:00 P.M.**

Patricia's eyes open with reluctance.

"So I got through," she says.

Eddie looks at her. Nods. "Yeah, I guess you did." His voice cracks. Wavers.

"So Mara, Fabian, and Jerome..."

"They're missing. That's why we asked you to remember," Eddie finishes.

Patricia leans back on the hospital bed. She's tired. Exhausted. It feels like she relived everything from June 25th and it's like she's just been shot. Just been hurt.

"Why am I alive, Eddie?" Patricia asks.

Eddie shifts closer. Squeezes her hand, which he still holds. "Well, the doctors said it was a miracle," he says. Chuckles in disbelief. "The bullet didn't hit any major organs, and the burns you got were minimal from the explosions. You did break a rib, and you sure were bleeding a lot. You had to get a blood transfusion."

"Oh, please don't tell me I have your blood running through me now," Patricia complains. "I mean, that's what happens in every dramatic story; the girl loses blood, and the guy donates his own. That's so cliché."

"Well, as much as I had wanted to be cliché, we don't have the same blood type," Eddie says. Grins. Squeezes her hand again, but is careful against the cuts that are healing on it.

"Then who did? Some nameless person?"

Eddie hesitates. "No."

"Do I know the person?"

"Yes."

"Then who was it?" Patricia is annoyed. She's just remembered for him all the things they need to know, yet the annoying prat still won't answer her questions.

"Piper." The name falls from Eddie's lips quietly. Softly.

Patricia takes that in. Accepts it.

"You said I'd know if she was okay, but I don't," Patricia says finally.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Well, um, she's waiting outside, if-"

Patricia interrupts. Can't handle it just yet. "What happened to your tattoo?"

"Rufus, uh, had a lighter with him. He burned the patch of skin with it," Eddie says, gesturing to his neck. "That's why you heard me screaming in my totally manly way when you were in the storage unit."

"_Manly_. Oh, alright." But she's smiling. Patricia Williamson, smiling.

Eddie smiles back. "Uh, so, we'd better get the others in here so we can tell them everything," he adds as an afterthought. "Joy's probably wearing a hole through the carpet, waiting."

"So is Amber missing too?" Patricia asks.

"I don't know, but Alfie's out there with your sister, so you can ask."

Patricia sighs. Leans back further in the white hospital pillows.

"Let them in," she says.

And Eddie does.

Joy's there.

Piper's there.

Alfie's there.

Even Mick and Nina are there.

"Hey, Patrcia," Mick greets her cheerfully.

"Hey," Patricia greets him back. She greets everyone. She's tired, but she knows she has to greet everyone. She even greets Piper, who actually is looking at her this time.

Joy doesn't like waiting. Doesn't like tension. So she's the one who blurts out, "So, what happened? Do you remember everything? I know the doctor said because you were in a lot of pain and had a foggy mindset you might not have been able to remember..."

"No, I do. I remember everything," Patricia says, and she pauses. Takes a deep breath. Looks at Alfie, who thankfully isn't holding Piper's hand or anything. "Alfie, were you cheating on Amber with my sister?"

Alfie's eyes widen. "What? No!"

"Then why was she in your apartment at eight in the morning?"

"Because she came into town early and decided to visit you first, but you weren't awake," Alfie explains. "Anyway, she saw that I was awake, so she came to my house first."

"Well, that wasn't my fault; the batteries were removed from my alarm clock."

Eddie winces. "Er, yeah, that was me. Sorry," he adds.

Patricia looks at him. "You are really creepy. You know that?"

Eddie grins, then. "FBI agent, remember?"

"Ugh, that was real?" Patricia rolls her eyes. Directs her attention to Alfie again. "Okay, so I know you're a friend of Piper's, so I can believe you for now. Anyway, have you been in contact with Amber lately?"

"A little," Alfie says. "She hasn't returned my calls for a few days, but she has texted occasionally; usually she says she's too busy to talk. But she's been away for three days and I'm pretty worried."

"You have to call her. Ask her if Mara is alive."

Alfie takes out his phone. "Um, but-"

"Trust me. And ask how Fabian and Jerome are, too."

Joy gasps when she hears Fabian's name.

Alfie does call. And, for once, Amber answers.

Mara is alive. She's just very weak and is at a hospital right now. Amber says she will go into surgery today, but not for anything big and that she should be released soon.

Jerome is fine. Still as madly in love with Mara as ever and is relieved she's alive. The doctors did, as Amber explains, say he might have suffered a slight concussion and is also at the hospital.

Fabian is fine, too, but his hearing has been affected. Amber says the explosions did a number on his ears and he's now partly deaf in one ear. Joy, when she hears this, bursts into happy tears to know he's alive.

Amber explains that she panicked, knowing the three of them had almost died, and she had thought they were wanted by the police. For that, she just drove everyone to the nearest hospital, and says Fabian is with her right now.

Alfie asks why she never told him anything.

Amber insists it was to keep him safe, because she loves him.

"I love you, too," Alfie says. Grins too stupidly.

That's the first time they've said so to each other, Piper explains.

Amber then adds that she'll take Fabian to the hospital right now to see everyone.

Joy is relieved.

Patricia looks at Joy now. "What happened to Rufus?" she asks.

"He's in jail. Rotting there forever, I hope," Joy replies.

Patricia smiles at Joy's bitter remark. Joy has always been bitter whenever she wants to be, and it never fails to bring a smile to Patricia's face, because Joy never likes to be bitter.

"And the money's been returned," Nina adds.

So everyone knows now.

Everyone understands.

Everything is...over.

Maybe everything will go back to normal now. Maybe it won't.

And Amber arrives, flinging herself into Alfie's arms and kisses him. Fabian limps slightly, but he's fine, smiling and hugging Nina and then he hugs Joy tightly, and the both of them cry. Cry and know they're never just going to be platonic friends again.

And Piper goes to Patricia. Says she's sorry.

Patricia echoes the same thing. Says she loves her.

And Alfie introduces Piper to Amber.

And then Eddie leans close to Patricia. Smirks at her.

"It all worked out, huh, Yacker?" he says.

Patricia looks at him. Sees the man she isn't quite sure she understands.

"I guess," is her reply. "But I still haven't exactly heard you confess something."

Eddie blushes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't get bashful, Slimeball. I know everything, remember?"

"So now you're not just a Yacker but a know-it-all; is that it?"

"You-!"

But Eddie leans over and presses a kiss to her mouth. A gentle one. A loving one.

"You're crazy," he whispers over her lips. "But that's why I love you."

And Patricia scowls. Glares.

Eddie smiles softly back.

And Patricia then admits quietly, "I guess I don't hate you. I might even love you, too."

Eddie grins widely. "Really?"

"Yes, really," says Patricia exasperatedly. Rolls her eyes.

"I knew it." Eddie's still grinning. Keeps grinning.

"Oh, just shut up and kiss me."

So he does.

And he might even be right. Everything sort of did work out. Maybe now everything is going to keep working out, now that the worst is behind them and so many of them have escaped death and blood like they did.

_But only_, Patricia muses as she looks around, _if they keep counting to three._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

**Can you believe it?! A story of mine that's actually finished?!**

**Thank you so much, everyone. Writing this story has been great, and I'd love to thank each and every one of you who supported this story.**

So a HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to my reviewers from last chapter (and sorry for never responding to reviews, but I had to not do that to make this chapter more mysterious):

** sheerio4ever- Thank you for all your support! It's been amazing getting to talk to you and for you to actually love my story. You're just amazing. :P**

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**Bye for now, but, I am forever going to keep writing (even though I start summer school next week; I failed Chemistry), so look out for new chapters to my House of Anubis stories and always maybe some new ones!**


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